


Trope-tastic: Dean Winchester Collection

by LadyLibby



Series: Trope-tastic! [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Romance, Trope series, more tags to come, requested through tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: Fanfiction tropes. You all know them. You all love them, no matter how overused they are.Here are the ones I'm using:1.There’s only one bed2.Fake dating/married…turns into real dating3.Person A thinks Person B has feelings for someone else but Person B has actually been in love with Person A for years4.Mutual unrequited pining until a third person(s) intervenes and gets them together5.Person A and Person B have to huddle together to keep warm in the cold6.“I hate them…but they’re so hot”/“I hate them…but I’d die for them”7.Person A and Person B have been friends for a long time and one day Person A realizes that they’ve fallen in love with Person B8.“If we’re just friends, then why are you jealous?”9.Emotional or physical hurt/comfort10.Always arguing but one day while arguing there’s a kiss





	1. I'd Like to See You Try

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is Dean + 8

Dean was pissed off in a major way. He was pretty sure that if you looked close enough you’d see the steam coming out of his ears. He was gripping his glass of whiskey so hard his knuckles turned white. The glass itself was in danger of shattering.

Across the room, Y/N was sitting at a separate table, talking to Jack, the young hunter she and the Winchesters had teamed up with to take down a djinn. Dean barely bit back a growl as Y/N laughed, reaching out a putting her hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

“That’s a serious case of angry face you got there.” Sam teased, placing his own drink down and joining Dean at his table.

“Shut it.” Dean said through gritted teeth. 

“Woah. What the hell happened to you? We just finished a case successfully and we’re in a bar full of women you’d normally be all over…” Sam speculated, studying his brother. 

“Why did we even decide to work with him? He didn’t even do anything on the hunt-”

“Dean, he killed the djinn.” 

“Yeah, ok. But we hurt it enough beforehand so that he could kill it.” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. 

Sam laughed, looking over to where Jack and Y/N were sitting. She was leaning forward as they spoke, and Jack’s eyes wandered to where her neckline fell a little low. Y/N herself was oblivious, too busy looking at his warm brown eyes. 

“Ohhhhhhhhh.” Sam said in realization, leaning back in his seat. 

“What.” Dean dared to ask. 

“You’re jealous. Their flirting and you’re jealous.” Sam deduced with a smug smile. 

“What? No, no, no. Why would I be- **_no._ ** ” Dean stuttered, retreating to his glass and refusing to meet Sam’s gaze.

“Yeah. Uh huh, sure.” Sam said, patting his brother on the back. Dean just huffed, mood growing more sour by the minute. 

Logically, he knew he had no real right to be mad. He and Y/N weren’t a couple. Hell, he hadn’t even told Sam officially that he had feelings for her. But truth be told, in the year and a half since she’d moved into the bunker, he’d fallen hard. 

Recently, all he could think about when they did anything was how much he wanted her, and how much he wanted to be her’s. 

While she cooked dinner, he had to hold back from wrapping his arms around her and telling her how he felt. 

When they were driving and she was sitting in the passenger seat and singing along to whatever shitty current song was on the radio he resisted grabbing her hand. 

Dean couldn’t even count how many times he wanted to kiss her and didn’t. 

Several yards away, time seemed to slow as Y/N leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek. 

“That’s it.” He growled, slamming his whiskey on the table and getting to his feet. Dean’s blood boiled and the rest of the bar faded into background noise while he beelined to their table. Y/N looked up at him with big surprised eyes, caught off guard by his presence. 

“Can I talk to you?” He managed to get out, seeing red. 

“Um, y-yeah?” She agreed, before he led her outside. The moon shone brightly, the silver light making Y/N look angelic even despite Dean’s rage. 

The combination of his anger and the alcohol made his good judgement basically non-existent, so without explanation, he grasped Y/N’s wrist and started walking to the impala. 

“Dean what the hell are you doing?” Y/N asked, yanking her arm back. 

“We’re leaving.” He stated simply. 

“What? Why-what about Sam?” She protested. “I was in the middle of a conversation with Jack!” She made to go back when Dean grabbed her arm again, spinning her into his chest. 

“I don’t like that you’re hanging out with that asshole.” Dean said. 

Y/N took a second to answer, trying not to show how much his assertiveness was affecting her. “Since when do you decide who I can hang out with?” 

“Since...because-” 

“If you say ‘because I can’ I will kill you.” She interrupted.

“I’d like to see you try. I’m just looking out for my friend, ok?” He explained, grimacing at the word ‘friend.’

Y/N stepped away, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Suuuuure. I think, that the great Dean Winchester is  _ jealous _ .”

Normally, Dean would have just make some remark and gone inside to drink away his self pity. This time however, something was different. 

“What if I am?” He challenged. 

Y/N couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Then I would do this…” She reached up, slowly putting a hand on the back of Dean’s head. 

His heart raced, feeling a rare kind of nervousness that only comes when you give your heart to someone and are waiting to see if they give it back. 

As their faces inched closer however, Dean fell back to his usual impulsive tendencies and gripping her waist, drawing her close. With a kind of rushed passion, their lips met. The kiss made her knees a bit wobbly, and Y/N was grateful that he was holding her upright. 

He pulled back enough to breath. “Y/N,” he started. Before he could say anything else she interrupted with another bruising kiss. He smiled a little bit into it, and they just stood there for a while, getting wrapped up in the feeling of one another. 

“Do you want to take this to the motel?” He asked, a bit breathless.

“God yes.” She replied, grabbing her phone to send a quick text to Jack saying that she’d talk to him another time, fully knowing she wouldn’t be doing that. Dean sent his own text to Sam, which only read ‘sleep in your own motel room tonight.’

As Dean made record time driving back to the motel, he held Y/N’s hand tightly. For a glorious moment, something in his crazy messed up world made sense.

Inside the bar, the two other hunters checked their phones. Jack sighed, mildly disappointed before moving on to flirt with the bartender. 

Sam just chuckled, happy that his two favorite idiots were finally done mooning over one another. 


	2. Hate is a Strong Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean + 10. Always arguing until one day while arguing there's a kiss

“We don’t need you or your help. We don’t need help at all.” 

Those were the first words Dean Winchester ever said to you. The sentence was delivered with a cold green-eyed stare and arms folded, indicating a closed off way of dealing with the world. 

Immediate dislike of the hunter began to form within you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth at the thought of his name. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you spoke for Sam now.” You shot back, raising an eyebrow challengingly. 

Dean’s jaw clenched and he looked like he was about to say something rude back when Sam grabbed his older brother by the arm. He led Dean a few feet away and proceeded to have a short, intense whispered argument. 

Sam seemed to have won, because as Dean stomped off to the Impala, the taller brother approached you with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry about that, he’s a little…touchy today. We really could use an extra pair of hands with this ghoul nest. Thanks again for coming.” Sam explained. 

“No problem, but I want to be clear that this is a favor for you, and NOT your brother.” You said, shooting a glare at the rumbling car. 

Sam just nodded and sighed. You slid into the backseat of the ‘67 Chevy and the three of you were on your way to the ghoul’s nest. Dean played his music at an obnoxious level the whole time, ruining any chance of conversation, and any way to fix his horrible first impression. 

Feeling like you had a point to prove, you took out two out of the three ghouls. The first one you fought on your own. The second, you decapitated while Dean was pinned and unarmed by the monster. 

“Wow Winchester, you really don’t need anyone’s help.” You quipped before heading to a different part of the old abandoned house to find Sam. 

The drive back to the motel you had met them at was quiet. No Metallica played, but no one talked either. You were all too exhausted and covered in ghoul remains to try and make conversation. 

You beelined for your room practically the second the car rolled to a stop. You moved so quickly that you completely missed the way Dean watched you. He opened his mouth the call you back, wanting to thank you. The door was already closed by the time he got the first syllable out. 

In the morning, you were up and packed before eight o’clock. Hugging the younger Winchester goodbye, you caught a glimpse of a sleep-tousled Dean, leaning against the doorframe of the motel room, watching you. 

You made eye contact, keeping your face neutral. “It was good to see you again Sam.” 

Dean scowled, only making your smug smile wider. With that, you got into the front seat of your car, and drove away. 

You didn’t see them again until months later. 

“Y/N again? Why do you keep calling her, Sam? She hates me.” 

“Last I checked, you didn’t seem to like her that much either, Dean. Look, it’ll be quick. You know she’s a good hunter. With her help we’ll be done in a day, maybe two.” 

Standing outside the motel room Sam told you to meet them at, you kept your anger with Dean in check. Rationally, you knew that walking in and punching him in his stupidly handsome face wouldn’t do any good. Instead, you just put on a smile and knocked on the far from soundproof door. 

“Hey Sam!” You said, giving the tall man a tight hug. “Dean,” You shot coldly in the other man’s direction. 

He scoffed. “Look, princess. I’m only here because I hate owing anyone anything, okay? The sooner we’re done, the better.”

Sam was right. You played the part of an FBI agent with grace and practiced skill, getting the details you needed while Dean tackled the scene of the “murder” and Sam did research based on the information collected from both. 

“It looks like we’re dealing with a rugaru. Do you have any idea where it might be? Did the vic’s wife say anything that might help?” Sam asked over the phone. 

“Yeah, she said that Susan liked to go to this one bar for drinks after work. A body was found there three years ago under similar circumstances. I think that’s where it picks its prey.” You relayed, getting into your car. 

“We’re on our way, see you there.” 

Things didn’t quite end up going your way. After a long chase, the the three of you ended up cornering the rugaru in an alley. Having run the fastest, you got there first. Unfortunately, during the chase, the flamethrower had been handed to someone else. 

Relying on your skills in hand-to-hand, you fought. The creature ducked a punch, and snarling, body-slammed you into the nearby wall. The brick made hard contact with the back of your head, not quite knocking you out, but making lights flash behind your eyelids. The rugaru bit into your arm, making you cry out loudly in pain. 

“Hey! Get off her, you son of a bitch!” An all too familiar deep voice roared. 

The creature let you go, and you slid to the ground. Fading in and out of consciousness for a few moments, you were dimly aware of columns of flame being shot off to your right and voices screaming. 

Eventually, a slightly fuzzy Dean came into view. 

“Hey, look at me. Stay awake. Are you okay, Y/N?” He said, hesitantly grabbing your shoulders. 

You pushed him away weakly. “I’m fine. I’ve got this.” 

“Uh huh.” He replied, helping Sam get you to your feet. 

After your concussion healed and the bite on your arm was only a fading scar, you started working with the Winchesters on a more regular basis. None of you could deny that you were virtually unstoppable when you teamed up. 

As the months went on and you saw more of each other, you and Dean became less hostile. Any conversation you had would end in an argument after one would say something and the other would take it the wrong way and make some kind of snide retort. After a while, your exchanges became mostly monosyllabic and full of glaring. There were also the occasional lingering stares when the other wasn’t paying attention. 

After a particularly difficult case, you were left with a sprained wrist. A day later, Sam asked you to move into the bunker with them. At first, you were overjoyed at the idea of having a place to call home. Somewhere solid to come back to at the end of the day. You’re bright smile faltered when you looked over at Dean. 

“You’re okay with this?” You asked incredulously. 

“Yeah. Did you think I wouldn’t be? I’m not heartless.” He replied defensively. 

“That’s not what I meant. You just-” You started to argue back, before thinking better of it. “Thank you both.” You said earnestly. 

In a month, you were comfortably settled in the Men of Letters bunker. You spent hours in the library researching with Sam, and the rest of the time in the lower level training room. The first few weeks were wonderful. You cooked and baked and read and generally enjoyed having a place to call your own. 

Then Sam found a case. 

“So get this,” He said, as you walked into the library one morning. “There have been four mysterious deaths in Carbondale, Illinois all in the span of a week. Here’s the kicker, they were all staying at the same campground.” 

“Haunting?” Dean asked. 

“Possibly. Although the mangling of the bodies looks more like a wendigo.” Sam clarified. 

“Let’s check it out.” You said, getting up from the table. 

Dean put a hand on your shoulder, effectively keeping you in your seat. You pushed his hand away, looking up in annoyance. Sam shook his head, sensing an impending shouting match. As you and Dean stared each other down, the taller Winchester slipped out of the room. 

“Sam and I will take care of it. You stay here.” He said, finality in his tone.

“No! What the hell Dean?” You exclaimed, standing so you could be a little closer to eye level. 

“Your wrist just healed Y/N, you shouldn’t go out and risk getting hurt again so soon. Besides, we can handle it alone.” He reasoned, voice getting louder. 

“You can’t just make my decisions for me, Dean!” You shouted. 

“I’m trying to help you, dammit!” He yelled back. 

“I’m going and you can’t stop me.” You announced, turning to go. 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. 

“What?!” you asked, incredulous.

He grabbed you and kissed you, hard. You were surprised, but kissed back, gripping his shoulders. Gaining a hold of yourself, you pushed him away, trying not to stare at his lips. 

“What the hell was that?”

“I had to shut you up somehow,” He teased, smirking at you. 

“God I hate you.” You grumbled. 

“No you don’t.” He said.

The corner of your mouth quirked up with the hint of a smile. “For once, you’re right.” 

You grabbed his collar and pulled him down, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. He groaned slightly, dragging you closer by putting his hand on your hips. The need for air forced you apart. With a devilish smile, you ducked out of his grip and walked towards the archway leading to the bedrooms. 

“I’m going on that hunt,” You said over your shoulder. 

Dean called back, “I hate you!” 

“No you don’t!” You shouted from around the corner, grinning from ear to ear. 


End file.
